


National Share with a Co-worker Day

by Complicity



Category: Justified
Genre: Canon Related, Gen, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 11:46:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6955216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Complicity/pseuds/Complicity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Raylan is still sore after the Lindsey-Randall-Chickens thing. Rachel didn't gossip to Tim about it, more of a 'need to know' basis. But now know Tim knows and Raylan's still a pain in the ass but you've got to feel sorry for the guy, even if sharing a car with him on a stakeout isn't always easy. OK so maybe asking him for a drink is a gamble but Art did say Tim should get to know his co-workers better, didn't he? Although perhaps this isn't quite what the boss had in mind. It does give Tim a chance to get all analytical with the amateur psychology.</p>
            </blockquote>





	National Share with a Co-worker Day

They had been sat in the car so long waiting for jack shit to happen that there had been a mad moment about an hour ago when Tim had, nearly, suggested I spy. He wasn’t bored, sitting silent didn’t bore him. He could go a day and not say a word, happy to let a scene from a book he was reading or a TV series play out in his head. But not today because he was feeling awkward, and that was getting in the way of directing his day dreams, feeling awkward and not being able figure out why he was feeling awkward.  
Normally Raylan did all the heavy conversational lifting with his little homilies about stupid people or ‘did I tell you about this one time’ anecdotes which were always interesting, sometimes insightful and quite often laugh out loud funny. Tim might give a line in a response, or a grunt, or ignore him. It was a lucky dip which response he gave at any one time and that didn’t seem to bother Raylan. But not today. 

It wasn’t their thing, Tim initiating conversations, so the awkward silence was really beginning to bug him.

“Have I done something to piss you off Raylan?”

Raylan turned to look at him, surprised, like he had forgotten that Tim was there. 

“No.”

“Just- you know – you’re normally so damned –chatty” he finished lamely.

Raylan looked at him a moment longer, looked away, narrowed his eyes. 

“Have you done anything to piss me off, I mean deliberately, aside from being you?”

“Nope.”

“Well there you go then. It’s not you.”

That bought another round of silence. Tim watched the digital clock on the dashboard work its way through another five whole minutes.

“Weaners.” Tim surprised even himself with this one.

“What?”

“I’d have bought weaners.”

“What are you on man?”

“If I was going steal your savings. From your ultra tight security sock draw system. I read an article, farming magazine, when I was at the hygienist. Smart money’s in weaners. Not chickens”

Well, he didn’t punch him. Honestly by now Tim would have preferred that to the next five-fucking-minutes of an even more silent silence, if that was a thing.

Finally. “Funny. You. Fucking comedian.”

Tim went for bright and cheerful to keep the conversation going. “Tell you something stupid I did if it will make you feel better?”

“What is this? National share with your Co-worker day?” Raylan’s tone didn’t invite a response. “Anyway they weren’t them sort of chickens.” Tim added different fowl species to his list of things he couldn’t give a fuck about.

He looked a Raylan’s profile a beat and then went back to eyes front solider through the windscreen of the car. _Well I offered_ , he thought, _Can't say I didn't try_. That last shot was to the Art-that- lived- in-his head who Tim decided to blame for his attempts to get Raylan to talk to him, remembering last time Art had had a little heart to heart about Tim trying harder to fit in. _Son, if you could just – you know – try having a regular conversation now and then, makes it easier for us to all rub along._

“OK. You got me, tell me something.”

“What?” Tim’s incredulity was genuine.

“Yeah, only if it’s something lurid mind, paints you in a bad light.”

While Raylan looked on, finally smiling, Tim did a mental canter through ‘yeah, not that, or that, or that’s too fucking sad, and that-‘

“Come on, there must be some fuck up or other in your love life when you picked wrong or left a heartbroken boyfriend, or had a one-night stand that bailed on you.”

Tim breathed in through his nose and studied the tree by the passenger side window. That ‘boyfriend’. That wasn’t a fishing trip, or a causal dig, that was just, like, what, everyday conversation? This was new.

“Yeah. I don’t really do romantic liaisons on the same scale as you Givens.”

“More of a love ‘em and leave ‘em kind of guy, huh?”

“Yep.” Tim hoped shifting to monosyllabic was going to get Raylan to shut up. 

“Well you asked for a conversation son. “ Raylan was enjoying this now. “How’s being in liberal ol’ Kentucky working out for you? Land of bluegrass and causal homophobic banter.”

Tim snorted at that one. But Raylan wasn’t saying it to be mean. That, he could tell.

“You should be the one itching for a transfer to Florida. Much more action there.” Ding, ding, ding. There it was, the little bit of homely advice.

“Is that right? “

Tim dragged his gaze away from that tree then, looked at Raylan, but the only reply he was granted was a steady look for one second .. two seconds .. and a turn to look through the windscreen, a study in plausible deniability.

And with perfect timing the idiot low life who thought he could outwit the US Marshal service by hiding out at his momma’s house made an appearance. Tim hoped the people who did pay their taxes were pleased on their return because this sorry ass excuse for human being didn’t seem worth the resources that had been expended in getting him back. Or the mud on Tim’s chinos. Or the scratches on his arms from the tussle in the mean bushes in the momma’s garden. He made a mental apology to Raylan about a third of the way back to Lexington – the guy they had in the back, he was the most annoying person in Tim’s universe right now, knocking Raylan off the number one spot.

88888888888

They got back to the office a little too late to start on paperwork, said Raylan pointedly, as Tim leaned over to boot up his computer. Art had left anyway, and Rachel, Tim was disappointed to note. He had been kinda hoping she would be around for a drink. It had been a weird day. He didn’t think fridge beer, a box of pizza and Netflix would cover it. He was surprised by how much he didn’t want to go home.

Raylan was banging his locker door shut, looking as pissed as Tim felt. He decided to open his mouth and let the word come out without over thinking it.

“Drink?”

Raylan stopped, one foot raised as he wiggled with his sock inside his boot. 

“Unh?”

He must have heard him, the question was not about the content Tim realised, that was a ‘we don’t do this, do we?’ grunt. Fuck him. Tim pulled open his own locker, effectively hiding the look on his face behind the door.

“Sure, why not?”

Tim paused as he put his Tac vest away, and then slammed the door shut, hypersensitive to what that might look like to Raylan.

“You bothered where?”

“Nope. That bar on West Short Street’s alright. Music’s not too loud.”

Tim smiled. “Oh yeah, old man, your hearing starting to go?”

“I can hear every word of your bullshit. Son.”

Tim gestured with his left arm, an ‘after you’. He didn’t think Raylan would think twice about leading the way but the weird day would start to get better if he could watch Raylan as he strode down the corridor. He would take small blessings where he could find them. Raylan surprised him by suddenly wheeling round.

“I ain’t doing any more of that sharing shit we did today tho’. I do dishing the dirt on office colleagues, football and hey man look at the ass on her, or –“ he paused and held a palm flat out to Tim, inviting a response.

“Ass works for my people too.” 

“Well there you go then.” And Raylan spun back round to continue to the lobby. “For the record, it wasn’t my sock draw. Who the hell has a sock drawer?”

Does he know I’m looking at his ass now? thought Tim. 

&&&&&&&&&&&&

“Rachel tell you?” He’d had enough to drink now. 

“Rachel tell me what?” Raylan looked calmer. Alcohol what a fine thing you are, thought Tim

“About me.” Tim pointed at himself with a finger of the hand holding the beer bottle, catching himself on the chin. Oops

“About you what? Oh the … guy, gay thing. No.”

“So?”

“You know we both work for the Marshal service right? That whole tracking people down, finding clues, observational stuff? “

“What did I do wrong then? How did you find me out?”

“Weird thing to say? Do something wrong.”

“Yeah. Whatever. Stop deflecting. Sorry I offended your gay rights sensibilities. What gave the game away.”

“You.”

That made Tim huff out a breath. Curse this fourth beer. It was slowing down rifling through his person filing cabinet. Gave up trying to work it out. In for a dime.

“Ok. What did I do?”

“You weren’t doing anything. It was that bar over on North Limestone. I’d gone for a drink after work with-.” Raylan bit off the name of the drinking companion, a dismissive twist of his hand “There you were, with a guy. You weren’t stopping him rubbing his hand up and down your thigh, and you didn’t look like you had cramp. So I figured, either you were deep undercover in an operation that Art had excluded me from on the grounds of my magnetic heterosexual appeal or-“ He stopped, tapped Tim on the chest with two fingers “-you were enjoying it on a personal level.”

Tim thought Raylan looked way too pleased with himself. Smug. Sober he would have shut the conversation down. Shit sober he would have been back home in his sweats playing Call of Duty and picking olives off his Neapolitan pizza.

“When was this?”

“About 6 months back”

“You tell anyone?”

“Jesus Tim. Trust much? First you think Rachel has been a tittle tattle at a cake bake. Rachel? And now, what, you think I actually talk to other people in the office ‘bout personal stuff. Me? You do realise you asked me out for a drink. You just got lucky that I was feeling sorry enough for myself to take you up on it.”

“Ok then.”

“OK.” They both drunk in silence for a bit. And then, both at once,

“Gonna watch –“

“Heard that new-“

Tim felt it was only polite to give the floor to Raylan. “You first man.”

“Fuck. Do you never volunteer information about yourself?”

“Do you?”

Raylan laughed out loud at the one. “Not on purpose no. My shit just hangs itself on the line for all to see.”

“You know Art put me up to this."

“What coming out? Shit. Does he know?”

“What? Yes. And I haven’t come out. You found out. Anyway shush. My turn. Art put me up to talking to you. Said it would help me if I could have more everyday … communications with the people I worked with." 

“Bet he never figured this would be the topic of conversation.”

“Yeah. “ 

Raylan gave another snort of laughter. “Look, I know he overplays the father figure we never had thing. He was right tho’. About you, an’ doing this. You’re funny, in a good way, you know when-“ Raylan swirled his beer bottle round in a circle. Tim knew what he meant _when you’re drunk and you’ve dialled the sarcasm down for the night._

“Another beer?” Raylan raised his eyebrow, smirking.

“Now you’re just enabling the borderline alcoholic. Daddy is going to be so pissed at you.” 

Really he had too much already but he was enjoying this exchange. Knew it would never happen if either of them were not drinking. 

“Rachel, and Art huh?” Raylan started on the next bottle. “But not me?” 

Because he had no future vision of this ever happening again Tim ploughed on recklessly, brushing off the easier comment first so he could get to what he really wanted ask.

“Told Art when I started here. Figured the boss ought to know. No big deal. Rachel’s a friend. I mean-“ He stopped. Awkward. “you know, known her longer than you.” Raylan gave a small smile, brushing it off. Tim ploughed on. “So what you said earlier. ‘Bout Florida. And about it being easier being gay there-“

“I said it was easier to get some action as I recall.”

“Whatever. How do you know? I mean you, sp’ficly?” Probably should stick with single syllable words if he was going to drink much more.

Raylan looked at him, beer bottle resting against his mouth, eyes no longer wide open, lids lowered, like he was sizing up a threat. This could go either way, thought Tim. A quick draw or a lazy drawl. And then Raylan smiled, looked down through his lashes and before he looked directly at Tim. If Tim thought he was in danger of falling before, shit he was clinging on by his fingernails now.

“OK. Fuck it. Swear like a good boy scout Tim Gutterson that this never goes further than this bar, between you and me-“

“Two co-workers just having a drink-“

“Swear, come on.” Tim held up his right hand in a weird looking attempt at a boy scout salute. “Ok then, so – and obviously usual rules, have to kill you if you yaddah yaddah-“

Tim nodded seriously. Obviously.

“Just every now and then, what I’m saying is,” and he tipped his beer bottle side to side before he took another swallow.

If he was expecting some great big revelation of Raylan’s exploration of his sexuality Tim was disappointed and was drunk enough to push it. “Come on man. Details. What are you sayin’? You sucked cock?” Paused at the small tilt of Raylan’s head. “Suck cock? Who with? Tim looked round as though there might actually be someone in here who would claim Raylan as a prize.

“Tim.” Raylan looked around too, but at the volume of Tim’s excited response, seeing if anyone was close enough hear. “Shut up man.” And Tim could see he was blushing, actually blushing.

“Raylan Givens? You? Embarrassed?”

“This isn’t a denial thing. I’d be embarrassed if you said ate pussy. We don’t have these conversations, you and me.” Tim wouldn’t have been surprised if Raylan hadn’t followed that last remark with an ‘euw’. Tim gave a snort of laughter. “See, that’s why Rachel knows and you don’t. Didn’t want to shock you none.” 

Raylan raised an eyebrow as if to say 'Come on', chugged his beer still looking a little uncomfortable. Signalled for another. Tim put a hand on Raylan's arm to stop him. Wanted more than anything to stay and continue this - whatever it was - but knew if he stayed for another it would tip from friendly banter into something he might not handle too well drunk.

“Not for me. I got to head if I’m gonna function tomorrow. Let's hope we get a real lead on Thompson.“ Left his hand there, on Raylan’s forearm, a beat too long. It earned him another appraising look so Tim watched himself carefully peel it off, and then Raylan said “Thanks for, today. You know. Shit, I’m not great at this stuff. In the car, earlier, it helped. And this.” He waved the beer bottle again.

“I thought you were pissed at me for being a dick.”

“Well you judged the level of dickness just right.” 

Tim lifted his hand away for a sketchy salute and walked towards the door. Didn’t look back. 

The next morning, he replayed the conversation on a loop in his sober head in the shower. Laughed to himself at Raylan being bashful, caught out at being less than cool. Made him see more … what? Attainable? 

Tim lingered in the shower, chewing over Raylan’s apparent lack of awareness. Did he really think his co-workers went rooting through his laundry basket to find the dirty linen? The way Tim and Rachel saw it, it was Raylan wanted to have everyone know he had fucked up. He could do any number of things in his job well, they had both witnessed that and admired him for it, reel in a witness, cajole felons out of doing something even more stupid, cosy his way into a den of vipers and get the bad guy without a shot being fired. Even things that weren’t strictly his job but came under the heading of rescuing the halt, the lame and the weak he did well. But he kept quiet about that. So that being the case, what was with the times when he acted like a dumb fuck and then waved this large red flag over his head with the words _Look at me_ a foot high? 

Tim had learnt really early on, mother’s milk stuff, don’t draw attention to your mistakes ‘cos that only gets you the back of a hand or worse, which is what Raylan got in effect from Art or the DAs office for all the shit he stirred up, so why do it? And then Tim went _Oh_ out loud,let the water run into his mouth a bit. Well he was in the privacy of his own bathroom. He had wanted nothing more growing up than a cloak of invisibility for the times when his Daddy’s temper found him in its spotlight and so craved it now, but even he could remember the times when he his everyday kid stuff had got him a pat on the shoulder or ruffled hair. What little Tim knew about Raylan’s momma she didn’t come across as someone who would have the energy to be his cheerleader, and Arlo? The man would rather choke on his own vomit than give Raylan the credit for anything. What would that do to a kid if you all your attempts at look at me, look at how good I am at baseball, my school grades, I helped momma in the kitchen were never acknowledged? Is that why you wouldn’t be able to recognise the good in yourself now? To have no-one pay attention to you as a kid so that being shouted at, hit even, was a sign you existed and someone thought it worth minding that?

He could talk to Rachel about that he thought. That wasn’t breaking the promise he had made last night. Like it wasn’t the first time they had both tried to puzzle over what made Raylan tick so loudly. 

That other thing though, even if the next stakeout was conducted in near silence, he would know they had a thread, however thin the cotton. Unspoken wasn’t the same as not talking.  


**Author's Note:**

> The very first posting ever. Thank you to all of you who do post Tim, Raylan and Tim/Raylan fics for the inspiration. You will spot the homages. Any jarring divergence from character is all my own fault, nobody else's. Like many others this fic is woven in between the scenes we saw on the TV, after 4.4 and before 4.5. I don't own these characters and this is just a bit of fun.


End file.
